


Borrowed Jackets

by i_kinda_like_writing



Series: Stiles is a Girl [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Attempted Sexual Assault, Creeper Peter, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Jock Derek Hale, no one dies, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_kinda_like_writing/pseuds/i_kinda_like_writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a little tired of people assuming she and Derek are dating, just because she likes to wear his jackets (both lettermen and leather). They keep her warm! That's all!<br/>But they have a strong friendship, and they can work through any and all things thrown their way. And hey, if they happen to get a relationship out of it, that's just a bonus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Jackets

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This is actually my favorite Girl!Stiles that I've written so far. I loved writing their dynamic and their interactions were just so fun to do, so I hope you like it as much as I do :)  
> And also, there is a part where someone forces themselves on someone else, so heed the warnings. Please don't read this if it will trigger you.

Stiles and Scott talk about the latest video game Scott got as they walk into school.

“The graphics are amazing, sure, but the gameplay is _way_ too easy. I want some challenge when I kill zombies.” Stiles says. Scott rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, but if it was harder you’d be complaining that it was impossible.” They stop as they get to her locker. “Poor Goldilocks. Can’t find “just right”.” Stiles laughs and shakes her head.

“How dare you,” She says playfully. “I’m obviously Little Red.” Scott grins back at her just as Allison walks over. Scott presses a kiss to her cheek and she leans into him.

“Stiles, do you have a copy of notes from yesterday?” Allison asks. Stiles nods, pulling open her locker and slipping out her chemistry notebook. “You’re a lifesaver. Apparently Harris is giving a pop quiz on what we learned yesterday and I was sick.” Scott nods along, frowning like this is the worst thing that could possibly happen. Stiles rolls her eyes at the couple-sympathy.

“Harris is an ass,” Stiles says as she closes her locker. “I’d expect nothing less.” They start towards homeroom, which they all have together, Scott with an arm around Allison’s waist and Stiles next to her. Stiles frowns at the looks some people are giving her and turns towards Allison and Scott. “Why is everyone looking at me funny?”

“Your jacket.” Scott nods towards the letterman jacket Stiles is wearing. Stiles frowns.

“What about it?” Derek is always leaving his jackets at her house, both letterman and leather. They keep her warm and she gives them back during 5th period art.

“They probably think you’re dating.” Allison tells her. Stiles squawks indignantly.

“That’s so stereotypical! We’ve been friends since we were seven and people still think we’re dating. Ugh.” Stiles shakes her head. “Can’t anyone have a platonic, cross gender relationship anymore?”

“You and Scott can.” Allison points out. “And you and Boyd, and you and Isaac, and _me_ and Isaac, and-”

“Alright, I get it.” Stiles grumbles to herself as they enter homeroom. They sit down towards the back where Erica and Isaac are already waiting.

“What’s got her panties in a twist?” Erica asks. Stiles scowls at her.

“She’s just mad because everyone thinks she and Derek are dating.” Scott says. Stiles sticks her tongue out at Scott; he’s supposed to be her bro! Bros don’t sell out other bros.

“His jackets keep me warm!” Stiles protests.

“We know,” Allison says, eyes earnest. Stiles sighs and smiles weakly at her. Allison is a sweetheart but not even her sympathy is making Stiles feel better.

 

*~*~*

 

“People think we’re dating because I like to wear your jackets.” Stiles says. It’s 5th period, and she’s got her feet up on Derek’s chair, her sketchbook leaning against her thighs so it’s facing her. Right now she’s drawing Derek’s jawline; he really is the best model. Derek frowns at what she said.

“You wear my jackets ‘cause they’re warm.” He says.

“I know!” Stiles thanks God he understands. “So we have to find a way to make people stop thinking that.”

“Why? I don’t care what people think.” Derek says. He turns to face her but Stiles makes a noise of protest. He rolls his eyes and moves his head sideways so she can continue drawing his jaw.

“But what if I’m keeping you from getting all these hot dates?” She asks teasingly. Derek rolls his eyes.

“You’re not.”

“But what if-” Derek cuts her off.

“I don’t mind. Do you?” She shrugs. “Then we do nothing. It’s not a big deal.” Stiles drops the subject and finishes up[ her drawing.](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/363313894915719035/) “Are you coming to the game Friday?”

“Of course,” Stiles rolls her eyes this time. “I always come. Basically all of my guy friends are on the team.”

“Oh, so you don’t just come to see me?” Derek asks teasingly, turning towards her now that she’s finished her sketch. She shoves at him with her foot.

“Shut up. I go _in spite_ of you.” Derek grabs her foot and tugs, making her shriek as she fumbles and gets the attention of the entire class. She flushes deeply and sticks her tongue out at Derek, hearing someone mutter _Couples_ under their breath.

 

*~*~*

 

It’s not that Stiles _means_ to sit with the girlfriends at the lacrosse game. It’s just, Allison, Lydia, and Erica are already down there and they’re her friends. Sometimes she wears Derek’s jacket because he doesn’t _need_ it for the game and it’s cold out on the field sometimes. So if she happens to look like a girlfriend attending a game, it’s not her fault. Really, it’s not!

The group of them though, they are good cheerers. They “boo” at all the right moments, scream with happiness when Beacon Hills scores. Stiles, being the lovely lady that she is, sends a few choice words the ref’s way when he makes a bad call. Seriously, they’re the best kind of cheerers.

They win the game, of course, and end up going out to the local diner for milkshakes to celebrate. Scott and Allison shove themselves close to the wall and Stiles ends up next to them, across from Erica and Boyd who are next to Lydia and Jackson. Isaac pulls a chair up to the table because the booths are too cramped and Derek ends up next to Stiles.

“Will you buy me curly fries?” Stiles asks.

“No, buy them yourself.” Derek says, perusing the menu like he isn’t just going to get his usual chocolate milkshake.

“But I need my money for gas. And if I use my debit card my dad will know I broke our diet. _Please_ ,” Stiles bats her eyelashes at him; she’s been told her eyes are good for these types of situations. Derek frowns at her for a second before nodding and she squeals. “You’re the best!

“I know.” Stiles shoves at his shoulder and turns to talk with Allison about this art gallery she’s going to this weekend. Derek closes the menu after a few minutes, deciding on a chocolate milkshake, and comes face to face with Jackson, who’s giving him a weird look. Derek raises an eyebrow but Jackson just shakes his head, turning to talk with Boyd about the game. Derek glances back at Stiles to see she’s finished talking with Allison and has turned to her sketchbook, drawing and coloring in a pair of eyes. Derek asks, “Who’s are those?”

“Yours, dumbass.” Stiles says, chewing a little on the end of a some-shade-of-green colored pencil. “It took me forever to get the colors right, but I think I finally got it.” Derek looks down at it to see that she is extremely close to his eye color, which is admittedly confusing. He still remembers the look on the guy’s face the day he got his license. The poor man had no idea what to put down next to Eye Color.

“It’s really good.” Stiles flushes but rolls her eyes, like the compliment is unneeded because she already knows how amazing she is. But Derek knows, after being her friend for so long, that it’s actually because she doesn’t know it.

“Look at me,” She says. Derek turns his head to face her and she looks at his eyes. The keyword in that statement is “at”. People usually look into your eyes, looking at you, but Stiles is literally looking _at_ Derek’s eyes, as if they’re an object. It’s extremely disconcerting and incredibly interesting at the same time. Then she looks back to her sketchbook, furiously running a blueish colored pencil carefully over the page. She grins in triumph, showing [the finished product](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/363313894915710286/) to her model, and Derek smiles back.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles frowns down at her belly, poking it and willing it to stop. It doesn’t, because cramps only stop when you take pain medicine but she can’t take any because it messes with her Adderall. She hates periods so much and the house is completely devoid of all things sweet or salty because she’s trying to keep her dad from having heart issues. Stiles groans and rolls over, grabbing her phone.

“Come pick me up.” She says into it when he picks up.

“Why?” Derek asks.

“My Jeep’s at the shop and I need chocolate covered pretzels.” There’s shuffling from Derek’s end of the line and she knows he’s already up.

“That Jeep’s gonna kill you one day.” Derek says. Stiles rolls her eyes, grinning a little to herself.

“No it’s not. Hurry your butt up, I’m hungry.” The call is ended. Stiles sits up, looking around her room for a pair of jeans she can squeeze into without feeling like a whale and a sweatshirt of the same description. She decides on her comfy painting jeans and one of her dad’s Sheriff sweatshirts that she stole. The doorbell rings just as she’s pulling on her white Converse and she stumbles down the stairs to see Derek standing there, looking slightly annoyed.

“I forgot to ask why you needed chocolate covered pretzels at 9:30 on a Tuesday night.” He says by way of greeting.

“Hello to you too, grumpy. I’ll answer on the way, Suzy’s closes at 10.” Suzy’s Market is the only local grocer in Beacon Hills. Derek follows her to his Camaro (It’s really Laura’s but since she’s in NYC working on her degree it’s Derek’s for now) and slides into the passenger seat. “You know,” She starts as Derek gets in the car. Then, as if she was informing him of the expected weather for the week, she finishes, “I’d blow someone for this car.”

“You do realize you’d have to blow me to get the car, right?” Derek answers, not missing a beat. Stiles grins goofily at him and he snorts at her. “Don’t pimp out your mouth for vehicles, please.”

“Lydia says I’ve got good lips.” She says, pulling down the car mirror to poke at them. “Plump and pink.” She sucks in her bottom lip and lets it go. “What do you think?” Derek shrugs, starting the car.

“Sure.” Stiles rolls her eyes.

“Remind me to never let you talk me up to anyone ever.” She closes the mirror and toes off her shoes, resting her feet on the dashboard. “How do you ever expect to get a girlfriend?”

“My winning charm.” Derek says dryly. Stiles laughs at that, reaching out to fiddle with the radio. She presses the CD button to see what Derek was just listening to and grins at Derek when she realizes it’s the All Time Low mix she made him because he never has good music when she’s in his car. Derek ignores her look but she sees the tips of his ears turn pink and cackles. When she’s finally calmed down, she flips it to Damned If I Do Ya and hums along.

“You see, what’s unfair is that I am an immensely charming person, but I’ll never get a date and you, with your inept social abilities, will get someone so quickly just because of your face.” Stiles says. It’s probably just her frustration from the cramps that’s making her say things like this, but Derek’s good like that and doesn’t mind.

“You seem to like my personality well enough.” He points out, turning onto the road for Suzy’s. “And are you saying you like my face?” Stiles rolls her eyes but her cheeks feel warm anyway.

“Objectively speaking, you have a great face.” She says. Pulling into a parking space and turning off the car, Derek looks over at her with a smirk.

“Objectively speaking, you have nice lips.” Then he exits the car. Stiles squawks and falls out of her casual position in shock. She grumbles to herself as she pulls on her sneakers and gets out of the car.

“You suck.” Derek grins at her and follows her into the store. No one in Beacon Hills shops this late and no one outside of Beacon Hills ever shops here so the store is blissfully empty save for the cashier, a guy named Greenberg from their school. He’s kind of weird, but then again, so is Stiles so she doesn’t judge. When she sees the shopping carts an idea pops into her mind and she grins. Carefully, she climbs into one of them and smiles up at Derek. “Push me.”

“Freak,” Derek says, rolling his eyes and pushing her anyway.

“Loser,” She calls over her shoulder. Derek huffs a laugh and turns towards the sweets. Stiles looks over the different brands of chocolate covered pretzels and decides to pick the homemade looking ones from a company called “Grandma’s Bakery”. “To the chips!” She says dramatically, lifting her finger in the air to point.

“I thought it was just the pretzels.” Derek says even though he starts moving towards the chips anyway.

“Don’t worry, you’re not buying.” She decides on Ruffles and hugs them to her chest as she decides if she wants anything else. “Orange juice next,”

“What about your gas money, and your dad not letting you out on your diet?” Derek asks as he starts pushing her again.

“I have an excuse for this stuff; period.” She turns to see Derek nod, unaffected, and that’s one reason she called him. With two sisters, Derek’s used to this kind of stuff and he doesn’t act all weird when you mention it. Scott doesn’t get grossed out, but then he wants to make her _feel_ better with video games and cuddles, and sometimes Stiles just doesn’t want that.

“Pulp or no pulp?” She’s too short in her cart to reach the OJ when they get to aisle, so Derek has to grab it. Stiles scrunches up her face.

“No pulp, duh.” Derek hands it to her and she keeps it between her knees, the cool bottle making her skin cold.

“Peter likes pulp.”

“Peter is weird.” She says this like a declaration.

“That was a given.” Stiles giggles and leans back against the back of the cart.

“I think that’s it,” She trails off. Should she ask?

“But you want me to keep pushing you?” She grins back at him.

“Go really fast.” He rolls his eyes but smiles and pushes her quickly and she “Wee’s” the entire way. Greenberg gives them a strange look but she’s laughing too much to care. She finally hops out after they purchase her stuff and they leave the store. “Thanks Derbear.”

“You promised never to call me that.” He says, eyes stern. She laughs and slides back into the car.

“Poor Derek. Has a bad nickname. I feel _so_ sorry for you.” She says dryly.

“Touché.” He says, getting in on the other side. Sliding the key into the ignition, he pulls out of the parking lot and into the street.

“I win, there’s no “touché” about it.” She grabs the pretzels and goes to open them when Derek stops her.

“No eating in the car.” Stiles sighs sadly.

“But _Der-rek_!” She draws out his name. “I thought I was your favorite.” She pouts her “objectively nice lips” at him and he snorts. She scowls at him, then an idea pops into her head and she grins. “Can I eat in the car if I blow you?” Derek snorts and even _smiles_ , shaking his head.

“You’ve got to save prostituting yourself for emergencies only.” He says. Stiles grins, breaking open the top of the bin.

“Chocolate covered pretzels _are_ an emergency.” She pops one in her mouth. She chews this one quickly but the next one she savors, sucking all the chocolate off before chewing. “Want one?” She holds it out temptingly. Derek glances at her, pulling to a stop in front of her house. He opens his mouth and eats it right out of her hand, chewing it with a smirk on his face. Two can play at that game, and she brings her fingers to her mouth to suck off the extra chocolate with her “nice lips”. Derek scowls at her and she knows she won.

“Do you need help with the stuff?” Derek asks. Stiles looks down at her one bag pointedly before looking back up at him.

“I think I can manage.” Derek rolls his eyes but his ears are pink and Stiles grins at him. She leans over the console and presses a kiss to Derek’s cheek. “Thanks.” Then she scurries out of the car and doesn’t look back, popping a new pretzel in her mouth as she enters the house.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles is completely and blissfully alone. While she loves her dad to pieces and never passes up a chance to spend time with her friends, sometimes she likes to have the house to herself. Like at the moment, she’s in a pretty blue laced bra she got on her last outing with the girls and a pair of black basketball shorts she thinks are Scott’s, jamming out to her tunes through her headphones as she dances around the house.

She just can’t do that with other people around.

As she dances herself back up to her bedroom to grab the book she left up there, she finds herself a little cold. Pouting because she doesn’t feel like getting dressed, she looks around her room for a solution. She finds it in the form of Derek’s leather jacket. She plucks it up from its resting place on her desk chair and wraps herself up in it, zipping it halfway up her torso.

There. Now she’s warm.

When she locates Paper Towns by John Green she makes her way back downstairs. She’s enjoying the book well enough, but she’s frustrated with Q because he’s completely obsessed with this girl he hardly knows, and he’s missing all of these once-in-a-lifetime opportunities just to find her. Sure, Stiles isn’t the most “school spirited” person in the world, but she wants to go to prom. She wants to dance with an awkward boy and get drunk from a flask she shares with all of her friends.

Books that frustrate her can only occupy her time for a limited amount so soon she’s in the kitchen, whipping up some brownies (from a box, she doesn’t have the ingredients or the patience for homemade). She’s cleaning off the spoon with little kitten licks when her mind trails off, landing on her sketchbook. Where did she last put it? While she is a very messy person, she is also organized in the respect that she knows exactly where all of her things are at any given moment.

But she can’t seem to remember where she last put her latest sketchbook (she goes through 1 every three months, about). Leaving the mostly clean spoon in the sink, she returns to her room to look. Coming up empty, she tries downstairs, only to again find nothing. Now she’s getting worried. Her work for the entire last month of art projects and personal projects are in there; she _can’t_ lose it. Just when she’s about to go absolutely crazy, the doorbell rings.

“Coming!” She calls, rushing to the door. She forgets that she’s wearing Derek’s jacket, which ends about at her upper-thigh, and with the clothes she’s wearing under it, it seems to be the only thing she’s wearing. She opens the front door to see Derek holding up her sketchbook. “You are amazing!” She hugs him tightly, taking back her sketchbook. “I was going crazy looking for this.”

“What, um, uh, huh? What?” Is Derek’s eloquent response.

“Are you having a stroke?” Stiles looks up from where she’s examining her sketchbook and remembers what she’s wearing. “Oh my god, um, sorry. I promise I’m wearing clothes under this!” Great. Perfect thing to say.

“Okay.” Derek nods dumbly. Stiles bites her lip, looks behind Derek to make sure no neighbors are looking their way, and pulls him inside. She leads him to the kitchen, sits him down on a stool, and smiles sheepishly at him.

“I was kinda walking around, you know, alone in the house, and I got cold, so I put on your jacket. But I’m totally wearing things under here, no boob-to-jacket touching going on. I promise.” Derek nods this time, but more like he’s actually controlling it instead of an awkward lolling of the head.

“Alright.” He clears his throat. “You left this in my car the other day. I thought you’d want it back. I didn’t look in it or anything.”

“You can,” Stiles shrugs. “It’s not like I’m drawing porn or anything.” The timer dings so she leaves her sketchbook on the table as she pulls out her brownies. Thankfully, Derek’s looking through her sketchbook when she bends over so she doesn’t end up flashing him. When she turns around he’s on a page where she was [drawing Derek’s arm ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/363313894915710285/)(he was flexing so the muscles are all there).

“You have a lot of _parts_ of bodies, but no whole people.” Derek comments, but still nodding appreciatively. He turns to the next page, his ears turning pink when he realizes it’s a [drawing of his v-line](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/363313894915710299/).

“Yeah, I know. Ms. Mooney was telling me I should try that. I was gonna go down to the art center in Beacon County but then I found out it’s like 50 bucks a class. It would take about three or so half-hour classes for me to finish drawing a whole person and I don’t have that kind of money. I’m thinking of asking one of the guys if they’d model for me.” Stiles explains as she “ooh-ooh’s” and “ah-ah’s” trying to cut a hot piece of brownie.

“Not me?” Stiles glances over at him, and even though his voice is teasing, his eyes show actual hurt so she shakes her head.

“I was going to ask you, but I draw you all the time. I thought I might need a different model.” The she pauses. “But, come to think of it, I might as well try to put all of the separate pieces together. Yeah, would you?” Derek shrugs, standing up and walking over.

“I guess. If you want me to.” He pulls her hands away from the brownies and she instantly pulls her wounded pointer finger into her mouth to suck on.

“Found maw enfooziashick why ‘on’t oo.” (Sound more enthusiastic, why don’t you) She says around her finger. Derek rolls his eyes, understanding her anyway.

“Please, Stiles, oh please let me sit half naked in front of you for hours doing nothing for your benefit only.” He says in a flat voice. Stiles scowls at him, but with her finger in her mouth she just looks like an angry baby sucking on its thumb. Then Derek presents her with a warm brownie, himself being burn free.

“Thank you!” She pulls her finger out of her mouth to say it, taking the brownie. “You’re the best.” Derek smirks as he goes to take his own piece.

“Don’t I know it.”

 

*~*~*

 

The thing about Derek’s house is that it’s always busy. Eric works from home, so he’s always yelling into a phone upstairs in his office, and for some reason it seems to travel down into the living room. Talia is home by 5:00 and rushing around the house trying to get things ready, or clean, or whatever. She’s always rushing. Before Laura went to NYC she’d always be studying downstairs at the kitchen table and if you even made a tiny noise she’d glare at you like you were the spawn of Satan.

Cora’s always got a ball of some kind, bouncing a basketball, kicking a soccer ball, catching a baseball. Not to mention the sounds her sport shoes make on the floor, and the mess they leave behind. [Little Nick](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/363313894915710603/), who’s not that little, he’s 12 years old, has a music fetish. There’s always some genre of music blaring from his room. It’s good music, but it’s so loud and so constant that after 9 years of friendship, Stiles is getting a little tired of it.

But, Stiles argues, all of this would be tolerable if it wasn’t for one thing; Peter.

Peter Hale is a special kind of creepy. He’s Talia’s younger brother, Derek’s uncle, but he’s only about 7 to 10 years older than them (he’s never told Stiles his actual age. Once again, _creepy_ ). Whenever Stiles is with Derek, Peter is always lingering behind them somehow, watching like a stalker. It’s creepy as fuck and Derek’s tried to fix it, but Peter (the creeper) just acts like he doesn’t know what Derek’s talking about. But as of now Peter has never done anything _too_ creepy to Stiles face-to-face. Mostly just staring from afar.

“I’m gonna grab a Gatorade.” Stiles says, standing up from her reclining position on Derek’s bed. Derek nods distractedly; he’s going to beat calculus if it kills him. Stiles leaves him to his studying and bounces down the stairs to the kitchen. Now that Laura isn’t here, she can get something to eat without the patented Hale death glare. But Stiles does miss Laura; she and her got nerdy together. Cora is the Hale sibling that teases Derek with Stiles; they all have their things.

“Hello Stiles,” Stiles jumps about a foot in the air, clutching the newly-gotten bottle of Gatorade to her chest.

“Uh, hi Peter.” They stand there for a second, silently, until Peter takes a step closer. Stiles tries to take one back but she finds she’s as close to the fridge as she can go.

“Are you doing something different with your hair?” He asks. Stiles glances up as if she could see it and shakes her head.

“Not really.” She never does anything with her hair, except put it up. Sometimes, if she’s feeling adventurous (or particularly lazy) she’ll put it up in a messy bun, but she can’t do that for too long; that’s how her mom wore her hair and the memories combined with her dad’s face when he sees her are too much to bear.

“Hmm. I like it.” Stiles’ creepy senses are tingling. Peter takes another step closer and she flinches; they’re about a foot away from each other now.

“I’m uh, I’m gonna go.” She gestures towards the door and turns to move to it when an arm is put in her way. Peter’s hand is behind her head, resting against the refrigerator, keeping her trapped. “Um, Peter.” Said guy smiles almost wolfishly.

“Yes Stiles?” One eyebrow goes up and it’s almost exactly like Derek when he’s being an ass but Stiles doesn’t feel amused right now.

“I’d like to be let go now.” His eyebrow goes down and he mock pouts.

“But I don’t want to-”

“She said let her go.” A voice growls from the doorway. They both turn to see Cora there, a basketball cradled between her elbow and hip. Peter backs off, pretending nothing happened, and leaves the room. “Are you okay?” Cora asks.

“Yeah, yeah, just Peter being creepy, right?” Stiles tries a smile. Judging by the look on her face, Cora doesn’t believe it. It’s only then does Stiles realize how fast her heart was beating. It’s like when she takes too much Adderall.

“Laura told me, before she left, that I should look out for my friends being around Peter. He’s not-not good at restraining himself, is what she said.” Cora doesn’t look like she exactly believes that. Stiles voices this observation and Cora grimaces. “I think Peter needs a leash. And maybe some therapy for his addiction to teenage girls.” Cora raises an arm and even though Stiles is taller than her (5’10 which is tall for a girl, but Derek’s 6 foot so he makes her feel average height) she walks under it. “If it ever happens again, just call me.”

“Thanks,” Stiles smiles down at her. “And uh, if you could, not tell Derek, I’d appreciate it.” Cora nods, smiling with only half of her mouth.

“You got it.” Then Stiles reenters Derek’s room just as the room’s owner spits some _pretty_ choice words about calculus.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles chews on her pencil as she waits for Derek to come out of the bathroom. He’s getting changed, meaning he’s taking off most of his clothes so Stiles can draw him. Meaning Derek is about to be _almost naked_ and Stiles _has to look_ for a long amount of time so she can draw him. Stiles is a girl, a teenage one at that, and even though Derek is one of her best friends and she has absolutely no feelings at all for him (shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about, she _doesn’t_ ) Derek is objectively good looking and Stiles really doesn’t want to get turned on by one of her best friends.

This is important to her, though. She’s always wanted to draw a full model, one without clothes to block the lines and planes of the human body. Her mom was an artist, and even though she was more abstract, Stiles has always wanted to follow in her footsteps (it helped that she loved art and was fairly good at drawing, if she did say so herself). Derek was an amazing model, his face and body were just the perfect thing to draw. It’s like starting in the best possible way she can.

She jumps a little when the door opens and Derek comes out in nothing except for boxer briefs that are loose enough to leave some things to the imagination. He sits on the stool Stiles had set up in the middle of her dining room (it gets the best light) and stops, waiting for Stiles. She clears her throat.

“A-Alright, I’m just going to, uh, draw. And you sit there. Okay?” Derek nods, looking a little like a smug bastard with the small smirk on his face. Stiles curses at him in her head before starting to draw. The atmosphere almost instantly changes. When Stiles thought about it, she always thought it would be embarrassing, looking at Derek in such an intimate way.

But it’s almost like he’s a stranger, almost an object. Her mind is so focused on capturing exactly what’s in front of her perfectly on paper that she can’t even entertain thoughts that this is _Derek_ and that it’s _weird_. All she can think about are her pencil scrapes on the paper and how Derek’s body moves and matching them to one another. It’s a long time before she finishes and only then does she look up, acknowledging that it’s Derek on the stool in front of her.

He was amazing, in the model sense. He didn’t speak, not that Derek is an avid talker, he was completely still, and he doesn’t even look that bored. It’s only then that she realizes he was looking at her the entire time, observing her in her natural habitat. She flushes, offering him a sheepish smile. He gives back one of his small smiles that he only brings out for special occasions. She blushes harder at that.

“Thanks, you were amazing.” Derek shuffles off the stool, standing and stretching out his unused limbs. Stiles looks away, suddenly feeling like she can’t look.

“You know, it’s pretty cool to see you work.” Derek says. She looks up, confused at his tone. It’s that tone he uses when he’s trying not to show how much he enjoys or likes something, but he really, _really_ does. His ears turn pink ‘cause he know he’s caught, and almost instantly, his small smile turns into a scowl. “It’s cold,” Stiles watches him walk swiftly towards the bathroom, her mouth quirked in an amused kind of curiosity.

This is an interesting development.

 

*~*~*

 

Derek doesn’t exactly like his basketball teammates. He loves lacrosse and all of the people on his team. Some of his best friends play with him. Baseball is always fun because you don’t talk much but when you do it’s mostly about baseball. People who play baseball have other things, other people, to talk to and about besides baseball, so Derek doesn’t really have to speak with them. He sticks close to Boyd and they silently cheer on their teammates together at the end of the dugout.

But it’s different with basketball. All of his teammates, none of whom he’s particularly close with, are the stereotypical kind of jocks that talk about girls and sex and basketball _all the time_. Usually Derek can get out of the locker room quickly enough that he can find safety in the cocoon of his friend group, but today he’s not so lucky.

Red, a guy who is neither ginger nor likes the color red, and Luke, a beefy brunette who has allegedly screwed every one of the cheerleaders, come up to him as he’s pulling his clothes back on. He just took a shower, early morning practices always make him sweat despite the cold morning air. Derek curses in his mind and straightens up, regarding the pair with suspicion and caution.

“Dude,” Red says emphatically, kind of in the way Scott does but without the wide-eyed innocence. “You know that Stiles chick.” Derek tries to refrain from rolling his eyes. It’s not that big of a school, they should know everyone’s names well enough not to add “chick” or “dude” to the end of them.

“Yes.” Derek offers simply, refusing to engage these two meat heads further. He tugs his backpack over his shoulder and shuts his locker, heading for the door. Unfortunately, the Neanderthals follow.

“Are you hitting that?” It’s Red again that says it, Luke nodding along with a filthy smirk on his face Derek kind of wants to punch off.

“No,” He answers gruffly. This might be the single stupidest conversation Derek has ever had in his life, and he was Greenberg’s lab partner last year.

“Can you hook us up?” Luke finally speaks. Derek stops; they’re outside the locker room and are now in front of some lockers.

“What? Why?” Somewhere in the back of Derek’s mind he’s aware that he should not seem so surprised that his attractive friend is being appreciated, but he’s too annoyed to care. Both guys now wear the sleazy smirk and Derek already knows their answer.

“You’ve seen her rack, man.” Red says.

“And her ass.” Luke, rather unhelpfully, interjects.

 

“It’s enough for two men to handle.” Derek’s about to start throwing punches, but then he’s being hugged tightly, which kind of restricts his punching movements.

“Thank you so much for taking your clothes off for me!” Stiles squeals happily, pulling back. “It was the best experience of my life!” Derek feels his cheeks warm and what makes it all worse are Tiny Dick 1 and 2’s faces; mouths wide as their eyes, gaping at Derek as if he betrayed them.

“Dude! You’re totally hitting that!” Red complains. Stiles pulls back, eyes furrowing.

“What? What’re they talking about Der?” She turns to him and Derek turns her around, sort-of-leading her sort-of-forcing her down the hall. He maneuvers his own body in such a way that the dumbasses behind him don’t get a view of Stiles’ ass, which apparently is worth ogling at.

“Ignore them. Their brains are as small as their testicles.” Indignant noises follow him down the hall but Derek doesn’t look back. “So what happened with the drawing?” Derek asks when they’re a safe distance away. The excited look returns on Stiles’ face as she beams at him.

“Ms. Mooney’s submitting my piece to an art gallery. One of her friends is showcasing up and coming artists, and it’s not a definite, but it’s a huge opportunity for me. Her friend’s gallery is in L.A. _L.A._!” Derek lets a smile onto his face.

“That’s amazing Stiles, you deserve it. You’re a great artist.” The tops of Stiles’ cheeks turn that pretty pink color Derek likes and she bites her lip.

“Thank you, for all your help.” Derek shrugs like it was no big deal.

“Anytime.” Stiles’ eyes light up.

“Really? ‘Cause I’d love to do it again sometime.” Derek nods slowly.

“I think that can be arranged.” She squeals again and launches herself at him, arms going around his neck. He catches her around the waist, hugging back tentatively. When she does pull back she stays there, looking him in the eye.

“So what were Red and Luke talking about?” Derek turns and walks in the direction he’s facing, ignoring Stiles’ “ _Hey_ ’s” as she tries to get him to come back.

 

*~*~*

 

Okay. Derek totally knows what they meant now.

It’s a traditional day in California; hot. This is the exact reason that when Derek’s great-great-grandfather built this house, he put in a swimming pool (Alright, that was kind of a lie. The swimming pool wasn’t put in until his grandma owned it, but it makes a better story if he tells it the first way). The Hale children, and even Talia and Peter when they were kids, are known for their fantastic pool parties.

Sadly, since Laura headed off to NYC, it’s left Derek as reigning Hale supreme. Laura, while a nerd at heart, would still let loose once in a while and invite the whole school over on especially hot days. Derek is not so kind. His pool is reserved for his friends only, much to Cora’s annoyance.

At the moment, Stiles is sitting on the edge of the pool with her calves in the water, hair and body still wet from the dip she just took. Allison and Lydia are inside, mixing up some smoothies from whatever they have in the fridge. Boyd, Scott, and Jackson are messing around in the deep end, having a contest to see who can make the biggest splash. Isaac is talking to Cora over by the forest line in a way that makes Derek think he’ll have to talk about later. Erica is sunbathing next to Derek, despite the fact that the many trees kind of make it hard to catch a ray.

Derek has been watching Stiles since she got out of the water.

Usually Stiles swims in a bikini, one of her stupid sarcastic saying t-shirts over the top. Stiles says it’s because she burns easily, but Erica says it’s because she’s insecure about her body. Well, either way, the shirt was ruined by Allison and Lydia’s last batch of smoothies, which Scoot oh-so-smoothly (see what he did there?) spilled on it. Now Stiles was in a red bikini, no shirt, and Derek knew exactly what Dumb and Dumber meant.

Stiles, quite literally, has a great rack.

Derek hates himself for thinking it the second he does but he can’t help it. Stiles has a body where only incredibly stupid words can describe it. Words like “hot” and “fine” and _oh-no-God-forbid_ “sexy”. He feels as creepy as Uncle Peter and Derek wants the thought out of his mind so badly, but he can’t stop thinking about it. Stiles is _hot_.

Don’t get him wrong, Derek’s always thought Stiles was beautiful in the objective way that friends do (recently it hasn’t been so objective or friendly, but that’s beside the point), because she is, beautiful. She looks just like her mother, all porcelain skin and wide amber eyes, pretty dots of moles scattered across her body. Long brown hair that goes just past her shoulders and her pink, plump lips that almost always have something between them as Stiles chews on the item. Spitting image of her mom. Claudia was every little boy’s first crush, the pretty artist who drew you rocket ships and monster trucks if you asked. But this is the first time that Derek’s acknowledged, or let himself acknowledge, that Stiles has a hot body.

And it seems like he’s the absolute last person to know.

Because, you see, at the moment, Derek’s little brother Nick is sitting next to Stiles and his eyes aren’t exactly making contact with hers. Stiles is just laughing and smiling at Nick in the usual kid-brother type way she does, apparently oblivious to the way Nick’s own wide eyes are taking in her barely-covered body.

It makes Derek’s blood boil. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t like thinking of little Nick growing up, but he knows, deep down, that it isn’t the case. As if he’s being controlled by his jealousy, Derek finds himself standing up and starting for the pair, ignoring Erica’s questioning noise. He begins to get close enough to catch their conversation.

“You’re such a cutie pie. Like Derek but minus the grumpiness.” Nick laughs dopily, as if he’s not really paying attention.

“Yeah,” He sighs dreamily and _God_ could he get any more cliché teen boy? Derek growls deep in his throat.

“Nick, Mom needs you.” Nick looks up, his eyes narrowing at Derek as if he knows what’s going on.

“Why?” Derek uses his best glare and Nick’s scurrying up as if Derek said dessert was being served. “Alright,” He watches Nick run off with a strange mixture of pride and content brewing in his chest.

“Derek? Why’d you use your best glare on little Nick?” Derek looks back at her to see her blinking those big amber eyes at him.

“You really didn’t notice?” He asks her, eyebrows raised.

“What?” Her eyebrows furrow back at him.

“He was staring at your chest.” Stiles flushes instantly, bringing her arms up to cover her fairly ample cleavage.

“Oh,” A pause. “Sorry,” Now Derek feels bad because he made her uncomfortable.

“If you want, I have a shirt you can borrow. But you don’t need to, it’s not your fault he’s an idiot.” Stiles smiles gratefully at him and nods. They head inside the house and bump into Lydia and Allison.

“Better come back out soon or all the smoothies will be gone!” Allison sing songs.

“No dirty business children.” Lydia says with a knowing look. Stiles flushes and Derek remains impassive. Once the girls are outside again, Stiles and Derek continue up the stairs. Stiles goes first, so Derek is privy to the other half of what the idiots said; Stiles’ butt. Derek tries not to use adjectives, they’ll only make it worse, but, in a word, it’s a fantastic ass.

That is all he’ll say on the matter.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles is sitting in the back of the library, furiously scribbling away in some notebooks for an AP World History project. She really hates the projects. Give her an exam any day, but a project that involves time management, planning, and creativity? Kill her now.

Don’t get her wrong, she’s got loads of creativity. But when a teacher wants you to create some random town in the Middle East, your creativity kind of runs dry. Still, she keeps scribbling, looking back and forth from her textbook to her notes. Someone sits down in the chair opposite her and she looks up to see Cora.

“Cora, hi, what can I, uh, what can I do for you?” Cora seems nervous, biting her lip and letting her eyes drift, not focusing on a single object. It’s disconcerting because Cora is never nervous, not before a foul shot in a big game, not before a huge test that counts for half her grade, never. And yet she sits there, fidgeting in a library chair, looking nervous.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Stiles nods.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m all ears.” Stiles waits patiently for Cora to take a deep breath. Then it’s

“IneedyoutokeepDerekfromgoingcrazyonIsaac‘causeIreallylikehimandheaskedmeoutonadatethisFridayandIreallywannagosopleasemakesureDerekdoesn’tblowupwhenhefindsout.” She says in one breath.

“Hey, hey calm down.” Cora nods, breathing deeply until the pace of it returns to normal. “Alright, could you repeat that for me? A little slower?” Cora sighs.

“Isaac asked me out.” Stiles grins.

“That’s awesome! He’s wanted to do that for a month, but he was so nervous you’d say no.” Cora half-smiles at that, seeming a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, I-I’m really excited and I want to go _so_ badly. It’s just,” She stops, biting her lip again.

“No, no “just’s”, Isaac’s such a good guy. Why can’t you go out with him?” Stiles really wants Isaac to be happy, and those two being together would be great for both of them. “What could possibly be a “just” about this?” Cora looks up, meeting her gaze.

“Derek.” Stiles visibly deflates.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Cora sighs sadly. Stiles shoves her pen cap in her mouth, chewing as she thinks. When she looks over at Cora, Cora’s smiling widely, all hopeful looking. Stiles’ eyes widen in return.

“No, no way, I couldn’t even if I wanted to!”

“Please, Stiles, he’ll listen to you. Just tell him Isaac’s a little puppy who could never, ever hurt me. Please,” Cora gives her puppy dog eyes. Now, the Hales are known for their death glares. The way their eyes narrow, their eyebrows draw together, and their faces contort, it’s like the essence of hell burning into you through their gaze. But they are not known for their puppy dog eyes. It’s only that Stiles cares enough about the two kids that she nods slowly over at Cora. Cora squeals. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

“I know, I know. Now get outta here, before I change my mind.” Cora grins over, giving Stiles one of her rare smiles, and leaves the library. Stiles sighs, getting back to the government system of Stileslandia (she’s still working on the name).

 

*~*~*

 

Derek’s talking to Jackson as they walk down the hall. Actually, it’s more like Jackson ranting about this golf thing he’s doing and Derek half-listening, half thinking of what he’s going to do when he gets home that night. Suddenly, he stops when he looks down the hall to see Red and Justin (another dumbass friend of his) somewhat crowding Stiles up against the lockers. She’s clearly uncomfortable but they keep smirking in that sleazy way of theirs. Derek immediately rushes over, getting close enough to hear the conversation.

“Um, no that’s really okay.” Stiles says. Red pushes forward.

“Come on baby,” Stiles rolls her eyes. “Let us take you out.” Stiles purses her lips and regards him with an unimpressed look.

“Which one of you?” Red and Justin grin filthily.

“Lighten up, girlie, just let us pop your cherry.” Derek sees red (that guy’s name is so unfortunate, isn’t it?) and he’s about to punch someone but when his vision clears, Red is on the ground. Insults begin to flow from Stiles’ mouth like a second language (or third, she speaks Polish too) and Justin, who’s still standing, begins to get increasingly more scared as it goes on. When Red scrambles up, running away like the little weasel that he is, Derek walks over.

“What-What just happened?” He asks. Stiles looks up, anger slipping away, grinning at Derek in a little lopsided way that reminds him of Scott.

“I’m the Sheriff’s daughter, Der. You think I haven’t been in self-defense classes since I was 7?” She says this as if it’s obvious and now that Derek thinks about it, it kind of is.

“Oh. Yeah.” Stiles rolls her eyes, bumping her shoulder with Derek’s.

“Like I’d ever need a guy to come and save me.” Derek nudges her back, smiling down at her, but she doesn’t see it (he’s got a scowling reputation to protect).

“I have never thought that you needed someone to save you. I just wanted a chance to punch Red in the face.” Stiles laughs.

“Yeah, maybe I should’ve let you do that. But he won’t be popping cherries anytime soon after how hard I kicked him in the crotch.” Derek wraps an arm around her shoulders, squeezing once before letting go. Jackson walks over, frowning at them in confusion.

“What’d I miss?”

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles finishes up the snicker doodles and slips the tray into the oven. The kitchen’s a mess, so she begins to clean up the counters, wash and dry the dishes, and put away the leftover ingredients. She loves to bake, but the clean up? Not so much.

When it’s finally, _finally_ done she relaxes on the couch with her feet up, watching some _30 Rock_ episodes she’s already seen. Right now Liz is talking to someone she thinks is Oprah on an airplane. Stiles already knows what happens so she doesn’t mind getting up when the doorbell rings. The door is opened to a leather-jacket clad Derek Hale, which isn’t much of a surprise because he’s always wearing that leather jacket _and_ Stiles invited him here.

“Hey, come on in. I’m watching _30 Rock_.” Derek shrugs as a response and follows her into the house, shutting the door behind him. The jacket ends up on the arm of the couch and they watch for a few minutes before a timer goes off.

“My cookies,” Stiles grins, happy to have her bribes- _she means treats_ \- ready for Derek. She might be a little too excited though, because she goes to pull them out of the oven and burns the tip of her finger as she sets the tray down on the counter. “ _Shit_ , ow-ow-ow-ow-ow, dammit, that burns like a bitch.”

“What’s wrong?” Derek comes rushing in. Stiles pouts around her finger (which has found its way to her mouth because that is how you deal with burns, _duh_ ) and sighs.

“I burm my finga.” (I burned my finger). Derek sighs back at her.

“Sit on the counter. I’ll get some Neosporin and band aids.” Stiles shimmies up onto her kitchen counter, finger still in the warm safety of her mouth. Derek comes back in a few minutes, supplies provided. Derek, and most of Stiles’ friends, knows exactly where the medical equipment is in her house. She’s clumsy, ok? Derek takes her hand out of her mouth, wiping it off with a napkin. “Why were you even making cookies anyway?”

“They’re not just any cookies.” Stiles says, as if this is an important thing to distinguish. “They’re snicker doodles. And they were to butter you up with. Or are. I guess I can still use them. But an injury is a much better guilt tripper.” Derek raises his eyebrows, but keeps his focus on her finger, smearing some of the clear gel onto her finger. Neosporin is good for everything. Stiles, ignoring the fact that she just revealed her whole plan on purpose, insists, “It’s true.”

“And why would you need to butter me up and/or guilt trip me?” He asks, wrapping a Marvel band aid around her finger.

“‘Cause Isaac asked out Cora and she really wants to go but you’re going to go all “scary big brother” on him even though he’s a puppy who couldn’t hurt a fly.” Stiles says matter-of-factly. Derek pauses in his throwing out of the band aid wrapper.

“What.”

“Question marks, Derek, we talked about them.” Derek sends her a look. “It’s not a big deal. They like each other. Don’t go nuts.”

“But-but she’s only a _sophomore_. She’s _fifteen_. She can’t-she can’t be dating yet.” Derek looks so adorably panicked. Stiles slides off the counter.

“You dated Paige last year.” She points out.

“That-that’s different.”

“How?”

“It wasn’t my _little sister_.” Derek says through his teeth. Stiles walks over and squeezes his shoulders comfortingly.

“Hey, hey look at me.” Derek does, eyes filled with a weird kind of fear. “I know it’s hard for you to think about Cora growing up, but you knew it was going to happen eventually. If it helps, at least the first boy she’s going out with is heart-of-gold Isaac.” Derek seems to calm a little bit at that.

“Isaac.” He says, frowning a little as if he’s confused. “Isaac won’t hurt her.”

“No, never.” Stiles nods helping him along the right path.

“O-Okay.” Stiles smiles at him and he doesn’t try to return so much as he stops frowning so hard.

“You want a cookie?” Derek nods.

“Yeah, I wanna cookie.” Stiles tugs him towards the tray.

“Come on.” They eat the whole batch and watch as Tracy and Jenna argue over who has it harder: African Americans or women. Stiles falls asleep against Derek’s arm and Derek doesn’t move until the Sheriff comes home.

 

*~*~*

 

“Can you grab me a water?” Derek asks as Stiles gets up.

“Sure,” She was just getting some cheese sticks, the mozzarella stringy kind of cheese. But first she’s making a quick stop at the bathroom. She washes her hands and leaves the room, ready to head into the kitchen. But then she can’t move because arms are bracketing her in. She’s scared for a second, because she thought it was only her and Derek in the house, but then she meets Peter’s eye and gets even more afraid.

“Hello Stiles,”

“P-Please leave me alone.” She’s itching to use some of that self-defense she’s been taught but this is Derek’s _uncle._ She can’t just kick him in the crotch, she’ll have to see him again.

“I don’t think you really want me to.” Peter leans in closer and Stiles shoves her head back.

“I do. Please I do, leave me alone.” As Peter brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, she flinches. “Go away,”

“I love it when you play hard to get.” Peter bends his head down as if he’s going to kiss her. Stiles shuts her eyes tight and moves back as far as she can, turning her head away. Then the weight is gone and she opens her eyes to see Derek shoving Peter against the wall.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Derek is seething, face red and kind of scary. He’s forcing Peter into the wall so hard it looks like he’s in pain, and Derek shows no signs of stopping soon.

“Derek, Derek stop,” Stiles grabs his arm, pulling him back. But he’s too strong, so Stiles can’t really pull him back.

“I swear to god if you ever even _look_ at her again I’ll-”

“Derek!” It seems like Talia and Cora just got home, standing in the foyer watching the scene unfold. Talia’s eyes are wide and confused, while Cora seems to understand what just happened. “Derek Hale, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“He was forcing himself on Stiles!” It gets eerily quiet after the loud exclamation. Talia looks at her brother in disbelief, Cora is biting her lip, worried how it will play out. Stiles just wants to hide and Derek’s seething with rage. Peter’s face is strangely blank.

“Der,” Cora says softly. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.” She steps forward and takes Derek’s arm to try and pull him out of the room.

“What? No, I’m not-” Cora must be stronger than Stiles is, because she pulls Derek out of the room with ease. Stiles straightens up.

“I’m uh, I’m just gonna.” She nods and walks out of the room quickly, following the siblings up the stairs. Derek’s yelling and Cora’s trying to calm him down, but when Stiles walks into Derek’s bedroom they both get quiet. Derek rushes over.

“Did he hurt you? Are you okay?” His eyes are wide and worried, and it freaks Stiles out. She doesn’t want this to be a big deal. She doesn’t want to break up Derek’s family.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Stiles walks past him to Cora. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Maybe now Mom will deal with Peter, now that she knows.” Cora says.

“I-I know you told me to call for you but you weren’t home and I didn’t want to hit him but then Derek was there and he was yelling and-” Cora cuts her off.

“Calm down. Nothing’s wrong, Stiles, you’re okay.” Cora hugs her tightly until Stiles’ breathing calms down. Derek watches, feeling helpless, and arguing comes from downstairs.

 

*~*~*

 

The thing about their friend group is that they are very close. Most of the group has paired off, so the couples of course see each other basically every day. But even so, they go to sports games together, have shopping days together, have study groups together. They do things _together_.

It’s not even planned most of the time. Usually it will be two of them that want to do something, then one of the pair’s other half will want to come, who’ll bring another one from the group to entertain themselves with when the first two get invested by the “something” they’re doing. Then another couple will get involved, and then it’s most of the group, so the rest just decides to come with. And while this might sound a little silly, it happens more often than you’d think.

Like this sleepover. When Stiles found out that _Friends_ was on Netflix now, she wanted to have a _Friends_ night with Boyd, who’s a big fan, even if he doesn’t seem it. They were going to binge watch their favorite episodes and play the _Friends_ board game that Stiles has. Then Erica decided she might as well come, since she loves Joey and her boyfriend was already coming. She decided to bring Isaac because he’s great at board games, and after the _Friends_ game they were totally going to play Pictionary and Charades, and Isaac is boss at that, so Erica needed a good partner.

Allison wanted to come because she is amazing at Monopoly and since it was her and Scott’s date night, Scott had to come along too. Lydia found out and invited herself because she schools them all in Trivial Pursuit (no real surprise there) and she needed a suitable lap to sit on so Jackson was dragged along. Then Stiles begged Derek to come because she’ll need some support in the sea of couples (Isaac was more like a love child to the many couples than another extra wheel so he didn’t count), and it became a whole group thing.

That’s how they all ended up in Stiles’ living room at 11:00 on a Friday night, chewing on sugary and salty snacks as they debated which _Friends_ relationship was the best.

“No, no way, Monica and Chandler were the best couple.” Erica says, popping some popcorn in her mouth. She’s on the floor, leaning against a bean bag chair Stiles brought down from her room, Boyd next to her, almost engulfing her with the way they’re sitting.

“But the passion in Ross and Rachel’s relationship was so intense.” Lydia argues, chewing on some Swedish fish. She’s in Jackson’s lap in the armchair next to the couch, Isaac resting against the chair’s front.

“But the on again off again,” Allison sighs, leaning back against Scott. They claimed the couch in the beginning of the night and are now happily snuggled under a throw blanket Stiles got from her Babcia that says “Home is where the heart is” in Polish. “It’s so tiring.”

“Monica and Chandler are totally the best relationship in that show.” Stiles says, burrowing further into the leather jacket (Derek’s) she’s wearing. She’s occupying the opposite end of the couch, a handful of Reese’s PB cups in her lap. Her feet are cold so they’re tucked under Scott’s calf, underneath the blanket mentioned earlier. “But, as far as weddings go, I _love_ Phoebe’s wedding, I wanna get married in the snow.”

“You’ve got to find a guy first, Stilinski.” Jackson says, like the douche he is. Lydia, because she is a wonderful woman who keeps her asshole boyfriend on a short leash, hits him upside the head, not too hard but hard enough that he feels it. Stiles sticks her tongue out at him for good measure.

“She’s already got a guy,” Erica teases. Boyd taps her, trying to shut her up, but no one can really shut Erica up.

“And who would that be?” Allison asks, lips pursed as if this conversation is ludicrous. Stiles thanks her mentally; she’s absolutely right. Erica grins widely.

“Derek.” Everyone laughs, except for Stiles, who gives Erica an unimpressed look.

“Yeah, look at her all cuddled in his jacket.” Isaac says, giggling (he’s on a slight sugar high). “It’s so cute.” Stiles huffs, standing up, shaking her head at them.

“I hate all of you.” She says dramatically. Then she shuffles up the stairs to her bedroom, their short huffs of laughter following her as she does. Scott untangles himself from Allison to go after her and everyone else goes on to discuss the relationships on _How I Met Your Mother_ instead. Derek, who’s been in the kitchen all this time, walks into the room to drop off another bowl of popcorn and some sour gummy worms.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom.” He says. They all nod at him, not really listening, and he rolls his eyes. He heads up the stairs for the bathroom, because the downstairs one is on the fritz. It’s also because he has to brush his teeth (his mother ingrained that into him) and that’s where he left his toothbrush. But he stops at the top of the stairs, hearing voices.

“You know,” He hears Scott’s voice. Derek turns to look through the slightly ajar door into Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles is sitting on her bed, one leg tucked up underneath her body as she hugs a pillow to her chest. Scott sits backwards on her computer desk chair, frowning at her sympathetically. “If you tell them, they’ll stop teasing you.”

“I-I don’t want to tell them. It’ll just make it worse.” She says, shrugging. She looks so dejected, so sad, and Derek just wants to hug her until she’s happy again, until she’s the bubbly Stiles she’s supposed to be.

“How could it possibly make it worse?” Scott asks, eyebrows furrowing together as they do when he’s confused. Stiles sighs.

“Then their suspicions would be true and they’d try to butt into it, meddle like they always do.” She looks down at the floor. “They’ll try to fix it, but this isn’t something you can just “fix”. You can’t just make someone have feelings for someone else.” _Stiles likes someone?_ The thought is so absurd. She hasn’t liked someone since the 7th grade when she kissed her crush, Alex Kinsella, during a game of spin the bottle and he grossed her out using his tongue way too much.

“Maybe they don’t have to make him.” Scott says, acting almost as if he knows something she doesn’t. Stiles looks hopeful for a second before shaking her head.

“No, no, never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid.” Then she falls back against the wall, frowning again. Scott gets up and sits next to her.

“No it’s not.” He says it with confidence and determination, like he knows whatever he’s talking about is worth believing in. Stiles sends him a look like she doesn’t quite believe as much.

“It’s _me_ and _Derek_. It’s completely ridiculous.” Scott looks like he wants to protest more, but he must sense that Stiles is done talking about it, because he tugs her into him, arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, bro.” Stiles drops her head onto Scott’s shoulder, sighing again sadly. Derek steps back from the door slowly, mind a little numb.

_Stiles likes him?_

 

*~*~*

 

He doesn’t want to do it. He told himself that he’d only do it if it was an absolute emergency. This is supposed to be a last resort, a final saving grace. This is what he’d do if the zombie apocalypse happened, or Russia tried to bomb America. You don’t call 911 when you stub your toe, right?

But-but what if this is more than a stubbed toe? What if this is dislocated shoulder or a broken rib? Derek doesn’t know where this is on that scale and he won’t know until he does it.

Derek sucks it up, turns over on his bed, and grabs his phone. He presses the “L” contact, then the number it contains, and holds his breath.

“Der! Hey, why are you calling me? Did the robots take over?” Derek doesn’t huff his _I’m-amused-but-I-don’t-want-you-to-know-it_ huff like he usually would and Laura pauses for a second. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, I uh, I.”

“Oh no. Prehistoric Derek again, what happened? I know what happened to Peter, it’s okay, he’s getting help, Der.” Laura rambles on for a minute or two longer before Derek takes a deep breath and she stops.

“It’s not-it’s not Peter.” He says.

“Okay. Then what is it?” She waits patiently like the wonderful, if a little overbearing, sister she is.

“Stiles has feelings for me.” Laura doesn’t say anything for a little bit, and when she does, it’s

“Uh-huh.” Like she’s waiting for him to continue.

“What do you mean “ _uh-huh_ ”?” He asks incredulously.

“Well, it’s not really news, Der. She likes you, you like her, you’re both upsettingly oblivious.” Derek’s mouth falls open.

“Wha?” As Stiles would say, at least he used a question mark.

“I’ve known that you’ve liked Stiles since you both were about 10 and you kicked that kid in the shins for saying Stiles was pretty. You told me before that, even, that you were going to live with Stiles forever. Der, it’s kind of obvious. You go out in the middle of the night to get her snacks, you try to beat up your own family for disrespecting her, and the way you look at her. I mean, Derek, how could you not know?” Laura laughs softly.

“What-What do I do?” He asks, still slightly in shock. Shuffling is heard from the other end and he knows Laura’s sitting up as if to prepare for a long night. He sighs softly in resignation and waits for her to voice her idea.

“Well, first of all, do _not_ wear your leather jacket when you ask her out. It has to be special, and you wear that thing all of the time. Next, you’ve gotta get some supplies…”

Derek smiles at his bedroom wall, thankful for his sister, even if she is a little crazy.

 

*~*~*

 

The doorbell rings and Stiles frowns at the direction of the door. She hasn’t invited anyone over today and no one ever comes to their house.

“Stiles! Could you get that?!” Her dad calls from the living room. He’s watching a baseball game, relaxing for once, so Stiles gets up without complaint. When she gets to the door, Derek is standing there. He’s curiously not wearing a jacket, instead a soft maroon Henley. He’s holding… flowers? Soft pink tulips with a white ribbon tied around the stems. She furrows her brows at him.

“Um, Derek?” Derek smiles and that, in and of itself, is unsettling.

“Uh hi. I want-I wanted to tell you, that I-I want to drive you to get snacks at 10 on a week night. And-and I want to want to hit people but can’t because you already did. Oh, and, get naked so you can get your artwork in fancy galleries in L.A.” Derek says, still smiling awkwardly and the flowers shaking in his grip.

“Uh, gimme a second.” She turns, facing into the house. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” Her dad calls back.

“Can teenagers have strokes?” There’s no reply and her dad comes down the hall, frowning in confusion and a little wary of the situation about to occur.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing next to his daughter at the door.

“Derek is saying things that don’t make sense, he’s not wearing a jacket, and he’s got flowers.” The Sheriff frowns and looks back at Derek. His eyes drift from Derek’s slightly frightened gaze, down to the flowers, and back up to the bare arms.

“I, uh, I get straight A’s.” He says. The Sheriff nods slowly.

“I think he’s asking you out.” He says to his daughter. Derek nods a little to agree, but Stiles doesn’t see it, turning to look at her dad. Her eyes widen.

“Why would he do that?” She asks her dad. It’s beginning to seem like Derek isn’t even there.

“You’d have to ask Derek that question. I’m going back to my game.” Then the Sheriff turns and leaves the hallway, taking a sip of his beer on the way. Stiles looks back at Derek, a strange kind of wariness on her face.

“So… you’re asking me out? Like on a date?” Derek nods again, still somewhat stilted.

“Yes.”

“I’m, uh, I’m going to have to ask “Why” again.” Derek smiles non-awkwardly for the first time since he knocked on her door.

“I know we’ve been friends since forever and this could be a huge mistake, but I want to date you, despite the consequences. I think we should give it a shot. So uh,” He grins a little goofily, and Stiles has never used that word to describe something Derek’s done before, ever. “Do you want to date me?” He asks. Stiles flushes, smiling a little.

“I uh, I do. I would like to date you.” Derek grins, blinding Stiles at the shock of it. He leans in, pressing a kiss to her mouth, and she squeaks. “That’s… new.” Derek huffs at her, and she hears the fondness in it. Stiles smiles up at him. “Do it again.” Derek huffs again and she just smiles happily.

 

*~*~*

 

Monday morning Stiles and Derek walk into school. Stiles has a white and maroon lettermen jacket keeping her warm and a sketchbook tucked under her arm. Derek walks next to her, closer than usual, and glaring at anyone who gapes a little too long at them.

As they walk down the hall and turn to head to the science wing, they don’t see Jackson handing Erica a fifty, but that’s okay. They’re happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated 100% of the time, so leave me either and you'll make me a very happy person :) Hope you enjoyed.  
> P.S. As a little extra thing, you can go to this link: https://www.pinterest.com/elisabeth623/borrowed-jackets/ to see some of the other drawings in Stiles' sketchbook.


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